


Tripartite

by stopmopingstarthoping



Series: Statecraft [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Diplomacy, Double Penetration, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Pre-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19714924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: The Niflheim-Tenebrae delegation makes an appearance at a Lucian state dinner, and Ignis engages in extensive negotiations and diplomatic positioning.Ignis flushed as he caught the green glint of her eyes. He wasn’t usually this transparent, and despite the fact that he felt considerably more dignified than when he’d first spluttered his way onto the balcony, he felt out of his depth in a way that had nothing to do with diplomacy. Or protocol. And everything to do with the way Aranea looked as though she were about to pounce, while Ravus’ gaze skated up the ribboned stripe along the side of Ignis’ pants and lingered on his hips.





	Tripartite

Ignis was early, as he always was for these sorts of events. He checked over the expansive ballroom and the royal dining room both, consulted briefly with the Citadel’s Master of Protocol, and was satisfied with the overall layout, though Ignis did ask that a few items be tweaked here and there. The seating arrangement, in particular, was delicate. He ended up swapping three of the arrangements and moving one entirely, based on his memory of the heights and interests of the various guests and out of a desire to facilitate conversation. He also, as a last-minute move that rankled him, placed himself between two guests who shouldn’t have been seated together. He resolved to ask that he be given the final edit on the seating chart next time. Ignis had barely finished as the guests began to arrive, and he made another mental note to arrive fifteen minutes earlier to the next state dinner.

Tonight’s event was particularly lavish, as if to display to Niflheim and Tenebrae that they did not, in fact, have Lucis on the ropes as much as they might like to think. Abundant flower bouquets spilled out of giant urns flanking the walls, and glittering crystal and silver sparkled along long dinner tables. Candles flickered in sconces and ornately cut cups dotting the dining tables. Ignis was busy holding a conversation with half of his attention and spending the other half tracking who Noctis and Regis spent time with, making diplomatic calculations and careful adjustments as he went—coordinated, as always, with elegant table manners and witty repartee. Still, by the time the party moved into the ballroom for dancing, Ignis was grateful for the break.

Ignis had been familiar with all of the courtly dances since he was about twelve, so part of his attention was free to gaze around the room and take stock again of how everyone was interacting. He took copious mental notes—Renata Isolde of Altissia seemed entirely off her game tonight, and she was usually a workhorse of a diplomat, greeting everyone and making erudite but engaging conversation. He wondered if it was just a bad night for her, or if there was something going on in the higher echelons of Altissia’s government. A good discussion topic for his upcoming lunch with Lieutenant Elshett. She always seemed to have a handle on what was happening in that corner of the world. As if in response to his thoughts, Monica herself drifted by, clad in a long, deep-green dress that set off the tawny-bronze tones of her hair. She was on the arm of a short blowhard pontificating about something or other, and Monica waited for a safe moment and winked at Ignis. He nodded back, the sight of her making him wonder where Cor was. 

A small, delicate man associated with Niflheim—Ignis made a mental note to find out his name—seemed to be interested in hitting on every Glaive he could find standing watch. While Ignis could hardly blame him on a couple of counts, he suspected that the activity had less to do with the man’s libido and more to do with an information-gathering attempt. A quick glance at Crowe confirmed it, as she answered with an exasperated expression.

 _All part of the job,_ he thought to himself. He’d take notes on all this in the car on the way home from the party, and it would go into his files. Ignis was focused, and proud of his ability to multitask, carrying on conversations and doing his best to flatter attendees while running the background process of analyzing each one. Things were going very well.

That was, until the pale-haired pair from Niflheim caught his attention. The woman he hadn’t seen before, and he found his gaze sliding over to her when he really should have been paying attention to other things. He gave the Leide emissary a faint smile and nod as they clasped hands, and he saw a flush dust the cheeks of the pale redhead’s skin. He wasn’t really looking, and he nearly missed leading him into a turn. Ignis gave him his most charming, apologetic smile, and hoped it would be enough.

He’d been preoccupied with pale, muscular shoulders squared off and completely bare above an intricate gown, a confection of white flowers against a black background. An impossibly large, deep-red gem nestled just below her throat, just a shade lighter than the wine-colored smirk above. Ignis thought for far too long about the curves of her lips until a wolfish smile connected with him—just for a moment, before she swirled back around into the arms of her partner. Ignis was distracted yet again when she took a step back and flicked her head over her shoulder in a sharp, precise movement. It was part of the dance, but Ignis still fancied she looked toward him, and grey-green eyes snapped at him as if to confirm it. Ignis watched the cords stand out in her neck and imagined he could see her heart beat underneath porcelain skin. 

She was a perfect match for the tall, cool figure next to her. Ignis felt his own skin flush when he saw snowy locks and realized it was the elder Nox Fleuret on her arm. His previous—encounter—with Ravus flashed in his memory. In vivid detail, including the sharp breaths and flushed skin he’d enjoyed quite a lot, if he was honest. Ignis missed a step and nearly tripped, thinking of the late-night meeting that had turned into something much more personal. And intimate. He’d known that Niflheim’s highest-ranking officers would be here, but it was quite different actually seeing Ravus again in the flesh. 

Ravus angled his partner down toward the floor again and snapped her back up in a sharp movement, and she grinned easily at him. Her expression and body language were a casual contrast to the structured gown and silvery coiffed hairstyle she wore. For his part, Ravus looked more at ease than Ignis usually saw him, though he was more contained than his vivacious partner. He moved with sinuous, smoldering grace, and Ignis recalled why he’d been attracted to the man in the first place.

The two of them were lethal, and they knew it.

Ignis shook his head. What was _wrong_ with him tonight? His attraction to Lucis’ opponents was neither appropriate nor helpful in navigating the complex diplomatic relationships he was tasked with maintaining—improving, if possible. He remembered himself and tried to give an engaging look to Leide’s representative, but only received a disinterested smile that was just short of an eyeroll.

Well, that hadn’t gone well. Ignis cleared his throat and tried to focus, but his gaze was dragged away again.

His hand slid behind her waist and she picked up her foot in a delicate step as she leaned into him. The way they moved together was so practiced, so easy—they anticipated each other’s movements, and it had a supple fluidity that made him think of coordinated battle movements. Hardly a surprise given their positions in Niflheim’s military, he supposed. 

Ignis wondered—had anyone ever known him that well?

Ravus angled his head down toward his dance partner, and Ignis caught a heated moment as they looked at one another. Something burned in his chest and made him clench his jaw, and he flicked his head away quickly. Too obviously, apparently, to avoid being caught. He heard an uncharacteristically free laugh from Ravus as they passed, and a low, husky voice murmured in response.

Ignis tried yet again to focus, bowing politely to his partner and taking a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray. Maybe leaving the dance floor would help. He downed entirely too much of the fizzy drink in one sip. Ignis’ eyes traveled the room until he located Noctis, then looked just behind Noct’s head to Gladio, who gave him a firm nod. All was well on that front, then.

He continued to look around until he found the Marshal, finally, posture squared as always and leaning just slightly against the wall. He looked irritated, and Ignis cast about for the source of his annoyance. When he realized that both His Majesty and the elder Amicitia were nowhere to be found, he smirked around the crystal edge of his champagne flute. Poor Cor. With those two out of commission, at least for the next little while if Ignis’ guess was correct, Cor would be bombarded by the type of “royal nonsense” and “protocol bullshit” that he hated. Cor tossed back the last of what looked like a whiskey, but he didn’t move from the doorway he stood next to, and that let Ignis know that Regis and Clarus were likely up to some shenanigans down the side hallway that opened off that particular entry.

Having finished sorting out that little mystery, Ignis found his eyes searching the dance floor again for—he didn’t want to admit to himself what for. But the small swell of disappointment at finding that his new favorites had apparently also stopped dancing refused to allow him to deny it. Ignis sighed and strolled slowly toward a balcony with his champagne. He could hardly judge Regis for being incorrigibly libidinous, given his own behavior tonight. Ignis thought about trying to find some of the Altissian contingent, thinking all of those language lessons might as well be put to good use.

He heard them before he saw them, and his steps slowed to a stop. He wasn’t eavesdropping, exactly. It was just that—oh hell, he was eavesdropping. Ignis took another long sip of his champagne and arranged his limbs against the wall in a posture similar to Cor’s. It would do, to appear interested enough to anyone who might come by wanting to talk to him, but also was the perfect position to listen in on the gorgeous couple he’d been...following. Definitely not stalking.

“Besithia is furious with you, you know.” Ravus’ lazy, languid tones were teasing and nonchalant, despite his words. Ignis looked down and blinked, both surprised and not surprised at the effect those tones had on him. His body certainly remembered their meeting—it apparently had not been something he imagined or hallucinated after too many late nights hammering out paperwork. 

The defiant laugh that followed was no less sexy, and Ignis shifted his posture against the wall. “Fuck Besithia. Over a dress?” Ignis thought he heard the drag and exhale of a cigarette.

“Black is a Lucian color.” Ignis heard the sneer in Ravus’ voice and straightened the lapels of his own inky black jacket in offense, fiddling one of the skull cufflinks at his wrist. “Besides, when this dress was cleared, it was mostly white.”

Not that it doesn’t look stunning.” 

A quieter, throatier laugh from the woman, then, and Ignis cleared his own throat and shifted again. They were quiet for a long moment after that, and Ignis tried and failed to avoid imagining full-lipped kisses and roving hands out on the balcony, in the cool air, away from the stifling pretense of this room.

Her voice was just a little breathless. “Yeah, I might have paid off the tailor to add a little something later.”

“Why do you always insist on being contrary?” Ravus’ tone was oddly sarcastic and fond at once, and Ignis shifted his weight.

“Why do you always insist on questioning my decisions?”

Another pause, and Ignis thought he probably ought to move on and stop snooping. He heard the hiss of a cigarette being extinguished in liquid and grinned at the small noise of protest that followed.

“Those things are disgusting, and terrible for you.”

“Fuck off, Ravus. If I have to attend this shit, the least you can do is grant me my vices.”

A shuffle, and then, “Have another drink, why don’t you, instead? Maybe we can ask our friend in the doorway here where to find the _good_ champagne.”

Ignis was mid-sip and choked. He coughed and spluttered, and made the split-second decision that it was more acceptable to take the heat for his eavesdropping than to attract everyone’s attention to the fact that he’d breathed his champagne. He whisked himself out to the balcony. 

Ignis coughed for a moment, trying to clear his lungs as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. Being caught on the back foot was one of his least favorite things, and yet here he was—obviously eavesdropping, redfaced. The picture of a diplomat. He managed to stop coughing with a deep sigh. 

At least Ravus had the decency to look somewhat awkward and embarrassed, though judging by the woman’s knowing smile, he’d told her what had transpired during the last visit. _Wonderful_. Despite Ignis’ discomfort, his eyes lingered on crimson lips again, helped along by the glance she flicked him under her lashes before taking Ravus’ glass from him and draining it.

She handed the empty glass back to Ravus, who rolled his eyes and set it on a side table. She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly.

Ravus turned to Ignis with exaggerated formality. “Crownsguard Scientia, may I introduce Commodore Aranea Highwind, commander of the 87th Aerial and,” he drawled sarcastically, “the pride of Niflheim’s military forces.”

One hand slid to Aranea’s hip as she jutted it out, making the full skirts of her dress whisper. “Oh come on, I thought the two of you were at _least_ on a first-name basis.”

Ignis’ gaze darted away in horror.

She stuck her hand out. “Pleasure. And please, I hate titles. Aranea is fine. If I may…?”

“Yes, I—” Ignis took the hand she offered, meeting what he knew would be an overly-firm handshake with a strong squeeze of his own, attempting to regain some ground. “Call me Ignis, please.” The coughing fit finally completely suppressed, he took command of his voice again. She held his hand longer than normal, eying his leather gloves with interest.

“Well,” Aranea drawled, “and here I thought tonight was going to be boring.” She let his fingers slide from hers with amusement, and he watched her silvery, mirrored fingernails catch the light. He thought to himself that they were quite well-manicured for a soldier, and she laughed outright and leaned toward him, as if she was sharing an important state secret.

“Even fierce warriors get their nails done every now and then.” 

Ignis flushed as he caught the green glint of her eyes. He wasn’t usually this transparent, and despite the fact that he felt considerably more dignified than when he’d first spluttered his way onto the balcony, he felt out of his depth in a way that had nothing to do with diplomacy. Or protocol. And everything to do with the way Aranea looked as though she were about to pounce, while Ravus’ gaze skated up the ribboned stripe along the side of Ignis’ pants and lingered on his hips.

“Why don’t the two of you dance for a bit? I’m about done with being pawed at by wonks and bores.” Aranea looked sadly at the cigarette butt floating in the discarded champagne, sighed, and pushed herself off the balcony railing. 

Ravus and Ignis looked at each other in a sideways, darting glance, both hesitant to just follow her orders, but admittedly pleased with the idea.

“Oh, come _on_.” Ignis felt himself dragged unceremoniously by the wrist, looked down, and scowled.

The music struck up a deep, resonant tone. The strings were almost sultry, and the two of them shared a spark of amusement as they bowed slightly and began. Ignis had worried he’d be stiff and awkward given the oddness of tonight’s events, but it was quite the opposite. He felt free, clever, daring, elegant—full of energy. A smirk curved his lips as he realized it was the effect of the company he kept.

When Ignis joined hands with Ravus, he knew he’d be too short to circle his arm over Ravus’ head, as this particular dance required. Instead of ducking under, Ravus leaned back, elegantly sailing under Ignis’ outstretched arm and keeping eye contact with a close-lipped grin. Ignis watched the pale line of his throat above his crisp white shirt collar and swallowed. Ravus pulled him closer than was strictly necessary, and the air felt thick between them. Keen green eyes followed their every move from the side of the room, and Ignis caught sight of Aranea laughing at something someone said while finishing her champagne flute and dropping it onto a waiter’s tray. She certainly could put it away.

Ravus’ hand tightened on Ignis’ waist, and blue-gray eyes fished for Ignis’ gaze. Was he _jealous_? The thought made a small, giddy laugh escape Ignis’ own lips, and he met Ravus’ eyes as they circled across the floor. Ravus’ petulant expression was met by a defiant one from Ignis, and the heat between them simmered.

Breathless, they rejoined the Commodore at the edges of the room. She smiled at them.

“Not bad. You move well as a pair. Though, I could absolutely think of other things I’d much rather watch you do together.”

Ignis’ eyes rounded and he darted a quick glance around, as a husky laugh sounded in his ears. On the pretense of picking a piece of lint from his lapel, Aranea leaned close.

“Don’t worry, four-eyes. I’m crass but I’m not careless. No one heard. Did you want them to?” The last few words tripped lightly over her plush lips, the tone meaningful. She looked up at him again.

Ignis felt his gaze grow dark, and he looked back down at Aranea as though he was ready to give her exactly what she was teasing for. He looked at Ravus, and Ravus just shrugged in acquiescence.

She looked back and forth between the two of them, and mused, “You know, maybe I do have a type.”

Ravus took a sip, mischief teasing around his eyebrows. “Hmm, like that Glaive from the last trip?”

“She does have a far better rack than either one of you.”

“No, the other one.” Ravus jerked his chin toward a man standing in front of a different doorway, who took the opportunity to flash a dimpled grin in Aranea’s direction.

“Oh.” A ripple of laughter poured forth from her pale throat again. “Well, they do come as a set, those two. Kind of like the two of you.”

Ignis frowned. He was still trying to process the fact that it sounded like Aranea had slept with two of Lucis’ own Glaives, but her last statement— 

“I don't know what you're talking about. I barely know the two of you.”

She laughed again. “True, but you and Ray seem like two peas in a pod.” 

Ravus broke in. “Don't call me that.”

She shrugged one of those distractingly chiseled alabaster shoulders, drawing the gaze of both men. “Overly serious, stick up the ass—the whole deal. Don't tell me you two haven't noticed.”

They exchanged glances, both furious at the comparison. 

Aranea smirked and folded her arms. “It's cute, you know. The pretending.”

“Pretending what, exactly?” Ignis’ tone was more snappish than he'd intended.

“Pretending you don't want to find a back entrance out of here for a repeat performance of last time.”

Ignis felt himself flush about as red as he thought possible, but for some reason Ravus was less rattled. Safety in numbers, he supposed. He watched as Ravus caressed a bare shoulder and gunmetal-tipped fingers flicked up to tangle with his. Ignis swallowed. He wasn't entirely sure which gesture he envied more. 

Close to her ear, Ravus murmured, “I wouldn't dream of leaving my guest unattended. Especially when she's my security detail.” Though he spoke to Aranea, his eyes roved over Ignis again. The two of them looked directly at him for a long moment, Ravus over Aranea's shoulder, and Ignis felt the same daring ease from the dance earlier. He quirked an eyebrow back at them, not breaking his gaze. 

Aranea let go of Ravus’ hand and sailed past both of them toward the door, grabbing another champagne flute from a server's tray as she walked. “I wasn't thinking you would, Ravus.” Ignis stared for a moment before she paused and looked back at him. “Well?”

Ravus just tilted his head toward the door.

* * *

Ignis led the way toward the guest quarters of the Citadel, which had purposefully been placed very close to the ballroom and dining rooms. Ignis looked around and noticed that there was no guard posted nearby, and he was thankful. No need to come up with a bland excuse for entering the room that Ravus and Aranea were sharing. 

The room was sumptuous; for obvious reasons, Ignis had never really frequented the series of guest rooms at the Citadel. He knew where they were, of course, but they were richer and more formal than he’d expected. His shoes sank into plush, pale carpet, tastefully toned to make the deep ebony walls feel expansive rather than oppressive. The other appointments in the room—all in Lucian black and gold—were dazzling, and Ignis wasn’t sure if it was the room or the champagne making his head spin.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the bed—embroidered white sheets underneath a dark, thick comforter. It looked soft. A tufted leather headboard lay behind it, and Ignis swallowed and cleared his throat. He supposed he should have, but he really hadn’t expected such sumptuous surroundings.

He also hadn't expected Ravus and Aranea's easy comfort with each other. He shifted his weight—he knew why he was there and yet for a moment he was beset by a rush of nerves. He felt a little like a third wheel. 

The feeling faded when Aranea sat in one of the elegant carved chairs and reached out a hand to Ignis, beckoning. Ravus was already behind her again, pulling the pins from her hair and watching the strands as they fell, occasionally brushing them back from her shoulders with a gentle touch. 

Aranea's hand in Ignis’ was light but not tentative. She looked at him with interest and stroked her thumb across the back of his hand. As her touch skimmed from leather to skin, Ignis shivered. He turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the skin at the inside of her wrist, the dark blue-green veins clearly visible against the paleness of her skin. The kiss was brief, but the softness of her skin and the spiced-jasmine scent of her perfume lingered. 

He looked up for approval, and was greeted with a catlike grin. He answered with a quirked eyebrow, and moved closer, pressing another kiss to the inside of her elbow. Ravus continued his ministrations behind Aranea's head, running his fingers through her hair more ostentatiously now—whether it was for Ignis’ or Aranea's benefit, he couldn't tell. Perhaps both. 

Ignis skimmed fingertips across one of the shoulders he'd been admiring, and up her neck. He felt his fingertips graze Ravus’ where they were buried in Aranea's hair, and the two men shared a long look before Ignis slowly bent his head. Self-possession returned, he closed his eyes and let his breath mingle with Aranea's for a moment before placing his free hand on the other side of her neck and kissing her. 

It was deliberate, a slow tease of brushed lips before a firmer press, and he drank in the scent of her skin. Her lips parted easily under his and the fruity taste of champagne hit his tongue. He deepened the kiss, a little surprised that she was letting him lead but taking full advantage. Her tongue slid past his easily, playfully; Ignis felt a sharp tingle of want as he stood over her. As they broke briefly to take a breath, he heard a low, eager sound escape from those lips—still crimson but becoming slightly smudged. 

She reached up and pulled him back down with a command that didn't surprise Ignis, but he thrilled to it nonetheless. Ravus hummed appreciatively behind her, and Ignis saw a casually intimate graze of fingertips over the nape of Aranea's neck when he peeked out from under his lashes. 

Aranea demanded his attention again, winding fingers into the back of his hair and unleashing a passionate kiss. Ignis responded with fire of his own, and when he finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder. 

“Hmm, I did not overestimate you.” She drew out the words thoughtfully, eyebrows raised. “So far.” High on attraction and adrenaline, Ignis simply curved his lips in answer to the implied challenge. 

“Enough assessment, more action,” Ravus murmured, tipping Ignis’ chin toward him with a fingertip. 

Aranea pouted. “That's usually my line.” Her complaint trailed off as Ravus stepped forward and kissed Ignis over her shoulder.

He let himself be drawn in and was met with surprises again; Ravus’ kiss was instantly urgent and demanding rather than the sensual exploration Ignis had shared with Aranea. He heard a throaty laugh to his left, and the swish of skirts as Aranea stood up. 

She whispered close to Ignis’ ear, “He can be direct; especially if you get him worked up.”

The light gust of air from her lips sparked across Ignis’ skin, and Ravus’ tongue continued to sweep into his mouth assertively. He was more than out of his depth—he was absolutely drowning in the two of them, with no self-preservation instinct to save him. Ignis felt his body respond to Ravus in a slightly familiar fashion, but with less bite and competitiveness than before. Their previous encounter acknowledged, enjoyed even, he felt freer to give in to it and forget the tedious details of this evening; the complicated web of connections and conversations and repercussions fell away as he surrendered to this kiss. It was glorious.

As he combed leather-clad fingers through pale strands, he could tell that Ravus felt the same. He stepped long legs around the chair Aranea had been sitting in and slid a palm down to the small of Ignis’ back, pulling him close. That possessiveness again—even as Ignis felt himself wanting to offer himself up to be consumed, he surged back hard against the mouth pressed to his own. His heart pounded faster, and when he finally pulled back Ravus’ eyes looked dazed. 

Languid rather than businesslike, Ignis toyed with Ravus’ tie before loosening the knot and snaking it from his neck. He slid his fingers between the row of buttons dotting the front of his shirt and shared a smirk with Ravus. He didn't comment on tonight's lack of buckles, but he could tell they both remembered it. 

Ignis startled just slightly at the squeeze of hands on his hips from behind. Aranea was not one to let them forget her presence, that much was certain. Her fingernails caught the light as her hands snaked around his chest, and she hummed appreciatively as she skimmed over the planes of his body under his jacket. She didn’t interfere with his progress down the front of Ravus’ shirt, though she did pause to trace her fingers over his own shirt buttons, pressing them gently against him without unfastening. She joined the line of her body to his from behind, and Ignis saw Ravus look down over Ignis’ shoulder to share a look with Aranea that seemed downright conspiratorial.

Seemingly impatient at Ignis’ unhurried pace, Ravus shucked his own jacket off and tossed it onto another nearby chair. As he stepped away, Aranea pushed at Ignis to turn him, and when he looked down at her, he saw olive-green eyes dark with desire. It was her turn to loosen his tie, but instead of casting it aside, she gathered both ends in one hand. Ignis looked down at her hand and back up to her eyes, but she had already picked up the excess fabric of her skirt and started walking backward. Toward the bed.

Ignis grinned and decided to take some initiative, but it was too late. With an imperceptible push and a flick of the wrist holding his necktie, she flung him onto the bed. He bounced with the slightest huff of a laugh, and caught Ravus’ eye, eyebrows raised. Ravus just nodded and undid his cufflinks. With all the carelessness of spoilt royalty, he dropped his shirt behind him where he stood. Ravus strode forward, catching Aranea in his arms from behind. He eased the zipper of her dress down and bent to kiss her neck.

Ignis saw the glitter in her eye makeup sparkle as her lashes flicked down and she sighed in pleasure. Ravus finished sliding the zipper down and slid his hands reverently over the curves of her body. The dress fell airily to the floor in a swirl of black and white. 

Ignis swallowed and propped himself up on an elbow. Aranea was exquisite. His eyes followed the round curve of her breasts before they were captured in Ravus’ hands. Long fingers stroked the soft, pale skin and grazed her stiffened nipples. Aranea sighed quietly and leaned back into him, turning up her mouth for a kiss. Ignis watched the stretch of her neck and the sweep of his hair and marveled again at how beautiful they were. He watched Aranea unabashedly grope behind her to give Ravus a hard squeeze, and Ignis felt the tension in his own hips as Ravus moaned softly into the kiss. The pale planes of his body caught the low light in the room, and desire swelled strong.

Ignis stayed sprawled out on his back, watching as Aranea stepped out of the billowing fabric of her dress one foot at a time and made her way over to him. Dark, sheer stockings swept up the curves of her legs and circled muscular thighs. She grabbed hold of his tie again and pulled his mouth to hers, climbing atop him in one fluid movement. His heart pounded, and his hands flexed uselessly at his sides before she took them and placed them on her ass. The predatory smile as she leaned back was intoxicating, and Ignis closed his eyes as his palms smoothed over creamy skin. Taken with the desire for more contact, he shed one glove swiftly, dropping it to the floor in an uncharacteristically careless move that mirrored Ravus’ earlier.

Ignis’ lips parted as his fingertips made contact with the impossibly soft skin at the top of Aranea’s stocking. He slipped fingers under the garters she wore, the taut elastics and ruffled lace a stiff counterpart to the silky legs that were making him drunk with want. Aranea cupped her own breasts and exhaled. She moved her hips to grind against the cock straining inside Ignis’ pants. A breath stuttered out and suddenly Ravus was upon him too, pulling his shirt buttons open with more force than was perhaps strictly necessary, but his impatience made Ignis’ heart pound. 

Moving to accommodate the removal of his shirt and jacket, Ignis sat up and took Aranea’s breasts into his own hands—one gloved, one bare. He cupped the weight of them and traced fingers lightly across. Aranea looked down at him expectantly, and when he lightly rolled her nipples between finger and thumb, she bit her lip and pressed against him harder.

“More,” she whispered. “Please.” The second word was mocking, a head-toss of a tease, a sassy, arrogant reminder that she was a high-ranking military official who rarely said _please_ to anyone, and Ignis pinched. First lightly, then harder as he drew some beautiful sounds from the pale, arched throat in front of him. 

Ignis closed his eyes to the feel of lips on his neck, and hissed in pleasure as the nip of teeth jolted his nerves. His right hand, still gloved, moved to grasp Ravus’ hair in a firm grip, drawing a growl from the mouth against his skin. Ignis’ left hand trailed lightly down Aranea’s stomach, which quivered in anticipation. Ignis’s fingertips traveled over scars and the occasional light freckle, and teased at the top of her lacy underwear. Aranea lifted up to allow him access, and breath gusted past her lips as his fingers dipped inside and circled around her clit. She was soaking wet, and Ignis throbbed in his pants in response.

He leaned back and pulled Aranea forward, and she crawled ahead to kiss him again. He captured her lips and plundered her mouth, fervently, tension rising. He cupped her ass again and drew her further forward, and was treated to another one of those knowing grins before smooth, jasmine-scented thighs framed his vision. 

Ignis pushed the lace fabric aside and traced over Aranea’s slit with his tongue. He waited, and she let out the tiniest, expectant whine. Without further prelude, Ignis parted her lips and dove in, pressing firm strokes of his tongue up and around her clit. He felt her shift above him and it seemed like she'd thrown her head back in pleasure—a good sign. He continued to flick and suck at her glistening skin, using her tremors and sighs as clues. He built a rhythm that was steady but a little demanding, and barely noticed as his shoes, pants, and briefs seemed to disappear. 

Warm hands skated up his thighs, and Ignis tensed as he felt Ravus squeeze his cock and give it a couple of strokes. His thumb traced over Ignis’ cockhead slowly, then withdrew. 

“I wouldn't want to distract you,” he drawled.

Aranea laughed at the annoyed grumble from between her thighs, then sucked in a sharp breath as Ignis swirled his tongue over her clit again. 

“You, on the other hand,” Ravus murmured into her mouth, “are made for distraction right now. Gorgeous.”

Soft, wet sounds from above him then, but Aranea's moans continued unmuffled. Ignis peeked out from between her thighs to watch Ravus lap at a hard-pebbled nipple. His hand rolled the other between thumb and finger, and Aranea's hips jolted violently at his touch.

Just then, she looked down at Ignis, grass-green eyes wide and pleading. “Please don't stop,” she whispered. No cleverness, no teasing, just pure, raw need. Her flushed face and undone hair just added to the wanton image, and Ignis resumed with a low growl. He quickly caught up to the rhythm he’d been building, and with each swipe of his tongue, he felt the power of pleasing her. He pulled her higher, but not too fast, and when she seemed close, he slowed down just a little.

An insistent, husky rasp was answered by a rich laugh from above, and Ravus toyed with her, flicking and sucking what Ignis thought must be sensitive spots, learned through close familiarity. Though he couldn't see what was happening, he felt Aranea tense, then release, and figured that Ravus was following his lead and bringing her close, but not quite there yet. Ignis thought to himself that this was perhaps the first time they'd agreed so single-mindedly on a goal. He smirked as Aranea ground down onto his face, no longer content to let him set the pace and starting to chase her release. Her loud breaths filled the quiet room, and Ignis pulled her clit between his lips and sucked it, grasping her hips tightly. 

Muscular thighs squeezed against his head, and the silvery frames of his glasses pressed into her skin so hard he feared she might break them. The sounds she made were worth it, though, and Ignis smoothed his hands over her as she clutched at him. It was beautiful, the way she shuddered and moaned, and he closed his eyes and spread his fingers over her skin. Aranea calmed slowly, finally lifting herself off him and moving behind his head in a sinuous crawl. She stopped to kiss him, face turned upside down to his, and Ignis enjoyed the strange angle as their tongues swept past each other. She grinned, nibbled lightly at his lip, and melted into the stack of pillows behind her with a soft sigh.

Ignis watched Ravus tuck silvery strands behind Aranea’s ear and trace a thumb across her lips. She met his gaze with an intense one of her own, and then Ravus turned his attention to Ignis.

Ravus sat back and grinned at him, a gorgeous picture in well-fitted formal dress pants but bare from the waist up. Ignis looked at him for a long moment, mesmerized by Ravus' elegant features and the fall of white hair framing them. Ravus’ muscles, surprising in their size and bulk, flexed gently as he moved to cover Ignis’ body with his own.

Ravus whispered a breath against Ignis’ lips, but pulled back at the last moment, waiting to see the raw desire in his eyes and laughing lightly against his mouth when Ignis surged up against him. This kiss was slower, more deliberate. The sweet, sharp taste of Aranea mingled on their tongues, and Ravus deepened the kiss, undulating above Ignis and drawing his hands to skin once again. 

As he smoothed a touch over Ravus’ back, feeling the raised slashes of scars and smooth skin in turn, Ignis’ fingertips dipped below the waistband of his pants. His own cock was impossibly hard, straining since Aranea had ridden his face to beautiful completion. Ravus’ own length pressed through the fabric of his pants against Ignis, and suddenly he was obsessed with freeing it.

Ignis’ touch was met by fingers already busy with buttons and zipper, and he broke the kiss to catch a mischievous glance from Aranea. She grinned, and eased Ravus’ pants and briefs down over his hips. Ravus' mouth met his again, harder and more demanding. Ignis’ eyes closed again, only to fly open at the sound of a sharp smack.

Ravus’ gaze snapped back over his shoulder. “Aranea, _please_.”

She cackled, and pulled his remaining clothing the rest of the way off to puddle on the floor before lounging back against the pillows again.

“Sorry, babe.” Having delivered this completely insincere apology, green met green as she looked at Ignis. “It’s a good ass though, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” he murmured, smoothing palms over it and squeezing a little where Aranea had struck.

Ravus looked at him with all the command a naked, flushed, disheveled prince could muster. “Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not unless you asked.” He did, however, flex upward and use both hands to pull Ravus’ hips down against his own. The smooth, hot skin of Ravus’ cock brushed against his, and Ignis made a small noise, but one that was filled with pent up desire. His head dropped back against the expensive bedding as he felt Ravus’ hand snake between them and grip them together.

Their hips rocked, and Ignis panted into Ravus' mouth. Eyes closed and buzzing with pleasure, he drifted back to reality at the sound of a voice at his ear, thick and rasping. 

“Ignis,” she breathed. He turned his head to see lust-blown green eyes trained on him. 

He was able to force out a short, “Yes?” before Ravus rolled his hips again, turning the word into a tense gasp. 

“Would you fuck me?” Her head tilted, all mock innocence, and Ignis nodded briskly. He was drowning again, but willingly spiraling down to the depths with both of them. Ravus had taken advantage of his turned head, and Ignis’ eyes closed again to the feel of lips and tongue against his neck. The sensation traveled down his chest, and Ignis felt a breath hitch against his skin. He looked down to see Ravus flutter eyelashes against his chest, high cheekbones dusted pink. Ignis would have felt disconcerted to be so worshiped if this entire night hadn't already taken on the odd patina of a movie or a dream. As it was, he was happy to give in to the pure sensuality of the moment. 

Ravus' lips closed around one of Ignis' nipples, and his back arched in pleasure. Ravus grinned, and murmured something Ignis didn't catch before his mouth moved lower. 

Not to be outdone, Aranea pinched Ignis' other nipple in a tingling shock before climbing onto his chest. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, grinding still-slick folds against his stomach while Ravus slid Ignis' cock between his lips and lavished attention on it with his tongue. 

Good gods, they were taking him apart again, and Ignis hadn't even fulfilled Aranea's request yet. And she'd been so polite. Respectful, almost. He tried to even his breathing and surface above the myriad, mingling pleasure points. Ravus' eager mouth was the opposite of helpful on that front, and the slip of his lower lip against the underside of Ignis' cock made him moan against Aranea's lips. 

She took a breath and inched back. The feel of her wet heat replacing Ravus' mouth was exquisite, and Ignis let out a loud curse. Aranea echoed it once she was fully seated, and squeezed herself around him with a wicked grin. 

Her hips felt soft and strong in his hands. Ignis' eyes opened to follow the curves of her body, moving slowly as she rose above him and slid back down in a slow, controlled rhythm. He followed his gaze with reverent fingertips tracing her skin, smooth, taut, already crossed with a warrior's share of scars both old and new. The slip of her against his cock made Ignis clench his teeth and grasp Aranea's hips again so that he could thrust into her. 

Aranea had fallen forward against him, and he growled low into her ear before nipping at it lightly. Her response was a low moan, and she tightened her grip on his shoulders and braced herself. 

Both of them gasped at the feel of Ravus' tongue lapping around where they were joined. Ignis slowed to a stop, closing his eyes at the light, wet stroking. Desire surged, and he flipped her, drawing forth a huff and a look of surprise, as well as a small laugh from Ravus. 

Aranea's breath quickened again, harsh against his neck, and Ignis grew consumed with the thought of making her come again. Ravus had sat up and was stroking himself watching them, and stepped toward Ignis with an unspoken question in his eyes.

Ignis answered with a devious grin, and the next thing he knew he was orchestrating the feel of a rather large cock between his lips while continuing on his quest to push the gorgeous woman below him to her peak. He rolled his tongue over the underside, savoring the sensation, and he was rewarded with success when Ravus arched back with a gasp. He gave Ravus a self-satisfied look the best he could. 

“Ravus,” Aranea breathed, pulling her head up to look at him. 

He grinned at her. “Good, yes?” 

“Yes, but—not that.” Her neck strained, and she moaned as Ignis slid into her again. “I want you both.”

Ravus made a thoughtful, humming noise and pulled his cock from Ignis’ mouth, leaving a glistening strand that lingered and broke. He smoothed fingers over the two of them, and Ignis tingled again. 

Aranea writhed and twisted, silver hair splayed across the pillow and a bright stain to her cheeks. Ignis felt her squeeze tight around him and moaned low. He paused, his closed eyes and slackened lips letting Aranea know just why he'd slowed for a moment. 

Ravus took the opportunity to capture Ignis' mouth again, and the hand behind his head was commanding. He gently pulled Aranea to the side, and the two of them rolled. Ignis slid out of her, and she threw her thigh over him. Ignis let a shuddering breath dance over Ravus' mouth, getting a more forceful kiss in return. Ravus' hand coursed over his chest, thumbing at a nipple. Ignis grabbed at his wrist. He was in control of himself, but barely, for the moment, his cock throbbing wetly against the smooth skin of Aranea’s leg. 

Clear blue-gray eyes met his own with amusement and acknowledgment, and Ravus fumbled around behind him for a moment. Ignis wondered, through his buzzing, pleasured haze, what he was up to, and then Aranea gasped in his arms. Her hips rocked against him again and her hands fluttered to Ignis' collarbone. 

Ravus' lips caressed the back of Aranea’s neck, and Ignis could see his arm working. Aranea arched in pleasure, pressing her breasts against Ignis’ chest. She reached down to guide him inside her again and Ignis realized what Ravus was doing. He groaned, both at the slide of Aranea and the thought of Ravus’ long, graceful fingers spreading and probing her. Ignis couldn’t help but imagine how those fingers would feel inside of him as well, and he bit his lip, trying to hold himself back from thrusting too roughly. 

Instead, he circled a tentative fingertip around Aranea’s dripping clit, and his guess was correct. Ravus increased the pace of his ministrations, and Aranea started to shake around him, bucking her hips into Ignis.

“Are you going to come?” Ravus’ whisper fluttered the shining hair draped across her ear.

She nodded, helpless, and grasped onto Ignis’ shoulders, hard. He wondered if she’d leave bruises; her grip was powerful. He pressed gently into her clit, and she trembled and shook, letting out a broken sound. 

“Fuck!”

She squeezed around him again, and Ignis traced hair away from her face, watching her flush a deep red. They held her as she shuddered, and as she settled, Ravus leaned forward to murmur into her ear again.

“Ready for me?”

Aranea nodded, dazed but wanting, her neck arching back toward Ravus. Ignis traced Aranea’s kiss-swollen lips with a finger, and she nipped at his fingertip, then searched for his mouth with her own.

Behind her, Ravus eased inside, pushing Aranea forward to slide further down onto Ignis’ cock. It was Ignis, this time, who let a little desperate noise escape into the kiss.

Aranea pulled away to look over her shoulder at Ravus. He was instantly attentive.

“Is everything all right?” A hand coursed soothingly along her thigh.

“Uh huh. Yeah, that’s….really fucking good. Keep going.” The breathiness of her voice was something Ignis knew he’d remember; it was so different from her usual deep, strident tones. Aranea wrapped a hand around Ignis’ hip, encouraging him to continue to fuck her gently while Ravus pushed slowly inside. She gasped as he seated himself fully, her mouth falling open before clenching her teeth against the intensity.

 _Astrals above_. Ignis fought with his own arousal again, teetering on the edge of enjoying all of these sensations without succumbing to them just yet. As Ravus moved back and forward again, Ignis could _feel_ the drag of his cock. His eyes flew open, and a wide gray-blue gaze, irises nearly consumed by blown black pupils, told him Ravus could feel it too. It was positively overwhelming, and before long, all three of them were making much louder versions of the groan Ignis had slid past Aranea’s lips.

A string of invective tumbled forth from Aranea’s mouth, and her hips stuttered and jerked out of the slow rhythm they’d set. Ignis found a hard nipple with his fingertips, and she yelped, tossing her head.

“That’s it, come on.”

Ignis didn’t know how Ravus was still managing words at this point; he was sure that he was making noises that were nothing but nonsense. Ravus continued to murmur soft encouragement as a counterpoint to the occasional profanity from Aranea, and the low timbre of Ravus’ voice rumbling from his chest shook what little resolve Ignis had left.

He looked into Aranea’s eyes, pleadingly, and she just grinned and nodded. She dug fingers into Ignis’ ass, pulling him into her, and he squeezed his eyes shut. A strained, tight groan left his throat as warmth flooded his body and he buried himself in Aranea’s wet heat. He felt Ravus’ cock, still steadily providing pressure against his own, and then he was gone, shimmering spots exploding behind his eyelids. 

Pleasure shot outward through his limbs and pulsed through his cock, and Ignis curled forward, taut and straining. He felt Aranea clench hard around him a final time, and a low, guttural sound gusted out of her lungs, followed by a raw, drawn-out moan. As the sharp string of tingling shocks still coursed through his body, Ignis felt a thumb push past his lower lip and lapped at it with his tongue, lost in sensation.

It was Ravus, of course, and Ignis saw a heated look burn into him as his eyes flew open, then closed again. Ravus cupped Aranea’s breast in one hand as his own thrusts grew faster and sloppier, quiet words abandoned for soft moans. The three of them rocked together as Ravus buried himself in Aranea’s ass. Ignis’s spent cock throbbed at the contact, and he reached over to comb fingers through Ravus’ hair. Ravus’ shoulder flexed hard, pale skin bright pink with arousal, and Aranea arched back against him. She didn't come again, but continued to sigh in pleasure, with closed eyes and open mouth. Ravus flew over the edge quickly, with wide eyes, breathy gasps and fumbling fingers. He trembled more than Ignis might have expected, thoroughly taken apart, it seemed. Ignis sympathized. 

“My gods, you two are fucking beautiful.” Ravus flopped back onto the hotel bed, still growling and twitching occasionally.

“My thoughts exactly.” Ignis traced Aranea’s dewy collarbone with reverence, sharing an overwhelmed, stunned look with her.

“Unh.” Aranea’s eloquent comment was lost in her pillow, and her shoulders shook in a laugh.

They lay in a disorganized pile, Ignis having moved somehow between the two pale-haired beauties, and three sweat-slicked chests heaved and slowed, recovering.

Aranea had found another cigarette somewhere and was savoring it. “Let it never be said that the Niflheim delegation didn’t roll out the red carpet for you, Scientia. Ifrit’s _balls_.” She exhaled a long stream of smoke with satisfaction.

“Tenebrae,” Ravus muttered irritably, but the light touch idly dancing over Ignis’ stomach belied his tone.

“Whatever.” A silver-tipped hand waved lazily.

Ignis helped himself to one of Aranea’s cigarettes, drawing a husky laugh. She lit it for him, and he took a long drag before responding. 

“I do think Lucis has been more than well represented in this little parley,” he commented, and she laughed again, tipping her head back for a deep kiss.

“Touché, Chamberlain.” 

Even Ravus chuckled, relaxed, and it was all Ignis could to do finish the cigarette and avoid lighting the room on fire before drifting off.

* * *

They'd escaped the notice of the Citadel guard last night. No such luck this morning. Ignis pulled his posture straight and spoke unnecessarily loudly. “I do appreciate this early morning meeting, Commander. Thank you for accommodating these border discussions in your schedule.”

Naked, from the bed, Aranea snorted. Ignis intended to frown at her, but the expression turned into a smirk despite his efforts, and he fought not to laugh. 

In a similar, theatrically loud tone, overlaid with a bit of sleepiness, Ravus answered. “Happy to indulge you, Scientia. I look forward to further… productive meetings on our next visit.”

Ignis blushed to the roots of his hair and prayed the guard didn't notice as he closed the door. Nothing to be done for wearing last night's clothes, he supposed, striding purposefully down the hall and trying to avoid imagining what the two of them were doing now that he'd left—his cheeks were quite pink enough as it was.

Ignis jammed one hand in his pocket, attempting to look nonchalant about it. His left glove had not turned up in the rush this morning, and he scolded himself internally for casting it aside with such carelessness. 

* * *

The next time Niflheim’s leadership visited, Ravus wasn't with them, but the Commodore was. Cor had asked Ignis to show Aranea the training facilities inside the Citadel - and that had gone pretty much as they'd both expected. 

One muscular leg draped over his forearm, clasped to his hip, Ignis managed a few words around kisses hard enough to bruise, tongues demanding entrance and teeth glancing off skin. 

“This is one of our sparring rings.”

Aranea let out a noise between a purr and a laugh. “Appropriate.” She gripped Ignis’ ass hard, and he moaned, thrusting in deeper. 

As they rutted against the surface of a vertical supply cabinet, rocking it dangerously, Ignis remembered their last encounter. 

“No spoiled princes in tow this time, I see?” He pinned one of her wrists above her head with his free hand and watched her arch in pleasure. 

“I hope you're not disappointed.” Her teasing tone was anything but hesitant, and Ignis burned a hot gaze into her own. 

“No.” Kiss-swollen lips clashed again. 

“I'll make sure to tell him all about it.” Her voice rasped low and husky against the shell of his ear, and the idea of her—lazy, naked, describing this to an equally nude, sculpted Ravus as they lounged together, painted its image into Ignis’ mind. Following that was his imagining of a breathier recounting, as full breasts bounced and slim pale fingers gripped at hips while Ravus thrust up into her. 

It drove a white-hot spike of desire into Ignis’ brain and he tumbled over the edge faster than he'd meant to. He jerked helplessly against her, struggling to hold back the sounds that would ensure their discovery. Lips slack, Ignis took just moments to recover before his fingers replaced his softening cock in her slick wetness, and he growled into Aranea's ear precisely the lurid details with which she could regale the Deputy High Commander upon her return. 

Aranea's own high-pitched cries were quiet, only for Ignis as she clutched at him, writhing. She'd curled forward to bury her lips against his skin, inside his opened shirt, and suddenly Ignis felt the sting of teeth as she came. 

He hissed in pain and pleasure. “Wicked woman. Be sure not to leave that little detail out.” He glared at her, but playfully, and she nodded and flopped back against the wooden surface of the cabinet. Sweat glowed on her skin, and Ignis dove forward for his own taste of her. 

Later that day, outside the Citadel, the visitors and hosts mingled to see off the delegation and Aranea found an excuse to sidle close to Ignis again. She spoke in a low murmur that was too quiet for anyone else to hear. 

“Your training facilities are… most impressive.” To his credit, Ignis avoided startling, but he felt warmth clench and spiral in his groin and swallowed carefully. 

He gave her just the slightest incline of his head to show he'd heard, and she lowered her voice even more. “We did find your glove, by the way. You'll never _believe_ where it was.”

Ignis let his gaze dart over to Aranea for a brief moment, and her eyes were wide with feigned innocence and disbelief. He turned his head to face front again and spoke without looking at her. “Keep it. Until next time, at least?” He was unable to completely keep his lips from quirking. 

Aranea raised her voice to a normal volume. “Indeed, sir. Until next time.” She pulled in front of him and gave him a mocking bow, which he returned, as businesslike as he could make it. 

As Ignis watched her sway away and into the car to depart, he wondered when the next time would be. And he wondered if and how he might manage to get her to call him “sir” again.

He was staring off into the distance and jumped guiltily when Cor clapped him on the shoulder to head inside. 

“You’re really outdoing yourself lately on diplomatic tasks, Ignis. You should be proud.”

Ignis choked, and tried to turn it into a cough before responding. “Thank you, Marshal. I do hope we can keep the lines of communication open.” He smiled to himself as he walked back down the marble-floored halls to his office.

His steps were halted by Cor's voice again. 

“Come by this afternoon. We're planning a trip to Niflheim, and I think you ought to be involved.”

Somehow, Ignis suspected he already was, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Written because I wanted it to exist, mostly, but I hope you enjoyed it if you got this far!


End file.
